Destiny Divided
by PotetoKagamine
Summary: In a faraway kingdom, there lived a child king named Reiniel, served by his faithful servant, Alena. He ruled his kingdom cruelly and without mercy, earning the hatred of his subjects. But one day, a chain of events was started that would change his life forever... (Based off mothy's Story of Evil - Genderbent)
1. Chapter 1

**[A/N: (Go ahead and skip this if you want xD) Okay, so this is my very first fanfic (officially, cuz I never actually finished my real first one... Oops.) so it probably won't be that great, but oh well.**

**Um, so if you didn't read the summary or something, this is based off of mothy's Story of Evil (Daughter of Evil, Servant of Evil, etc) sung by Rin and Len. But, as this is genderbent, it features Rinto and Lenka instead of those two. honestly, I love Rinto and Lenka in this way more than I ever liked Rin and Len in it-no offense mothy. But maybe I'm just biased, since it's my story or something, I dunno. xD**

**So yeah, it's genderbent, though I decided not to genderbend a few of the characters (if you're a fan of the series you'll probably see what I mean farther on) and I also took the liberty of changing a few minor things from mothy's original storyline besides that to suit the story better. And maybe cuz I'm picky too. Whatever.**

**So yeah. Please give my stupid story a chance, okay? I really hope you enjoy it, cuz I really enjoy(ed) writing it. C: And PLEASE, drop me a review or two or a THOUSAND! I really, really want feedback...**

**Anyways, on to the story!]**

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom by the sea by the name of Lucifenia—or, more commonly, the kingdom of Yellow. It was led by a fair haired king, who ruled justly with the people's best interest in mind. His subjects were prosperous under his rule, and for all his good deeds, he was beloved by them, and well respected by the neighboring nations. The people praised him for the peace he had brought to their nation, raising them out of the ashes of a terrible war only a hundred years earlier. They spoke of a hundred more years of peace that he would bring them, and they all rejoiced. But one day, it all changed.

Their king was suddenly taken ill with an unknown illness and died soon after, leaving the kingdom reeling in shock. Who would take his place? they asked each other frantically. Who now would bring them the peace they so longed for? The people wept profusely at their deceased ruler's funeral, and for many days after, but their mourning soon ceased as word came about of their new ruler. It was to be the king's only son, a boy of just fourteen years.

Many of the townsfolk marveled at the likeness to his father he bore when they first laid eyes on him; he had the same pale hair, the same icy blue eyes, the same unnaturally intelligent air about him. The peace they had been brought by his father would last a hundred more years, they said. The mirage of their former ruler only served to blind them from the truth, though. By the time they realized their mistake, it was too late.

Unlike his father, their new monarch was harsh and demanding. Where many thought he would be indecisive and easily swayed, he turned out to be just the opposite. His punishments were severe, even for the most minor of infractions: anyone who defied him was mercilessly executed. He ruled the people with an iron fist, leaving them terrified of what he might do next. He was extremely intelligent for a boy of his age, and knew how to get exactly what he wanted, even at the expense of the people he ruled. Behind his deceptively charming looks was a sinister cruelty, the likes of which none of them had ever seen before. "The Rose" was what they began to call him: his beauty only ran skin deep, and beneath it there was nothing more than ugly thorns and a sadistic cruelty. He crushed everyone who opposed him with ruthless indifference. At first glance, one might not have thought he was capable of such things—he had a slight, almost dainty build, befitting of one of royal descent—but his victims knew better.

Even the other nations began to fear him. The larger ones, such as the kingdoms of Blue and Green, cut off relations with him altogether, while others, such as Red, tried to avoid being sucked into his trap whilst maintaining somewhat friendly relations with him. Needless to say, they soon had the evil kingdom's yellow flag flying from their walls, with matching soldiers patrolling their streets. The whole while, the boy merely laughed at the people's misfortunes from the comfort of his lavish palace. It was nothing more than a game to him, and the people he controlled were his pawns to carry out whatever he desired. Ultimately, despite his careful planning and strategizing, he was blinded by his ambitions and ruled by his emotions and greed, and these would soon bring about his downfall.

His demise may have come much sooner had it not been for one girl. Born a servant and trained as a warrior, she was the fiercest fighter in the kingdom and soon rose to the position of commander of the Lucifian Royal Guard. She answered only to the king, acting as his advisor, maid, and confidant. Some claimed she bore an uncanny resemblance to him, but the theory was quickly dismissed. She left his side only under his orders, and carried out his wished with unwavering loyalty. She seemed to be the only person he was able to trust, the only person he felt wouldn't betray him. She was likened as his shadow by some, and others called her the Rose's Maiden, his counterpart and cohort in his crimes. By her, the young king was able to do as he wished without opposition.

Would it all be worth it for him in the end? the people often wondered. How long would his reign last unchallenged? Though they all wondered these things, none of them were brave enough to take action against the child. And so, his rule of tyranny ran on, unbroken and unopposed by all but the very bravest of them all, deep within the most secret places of their hearts.

_"So, shall we begin?"_

* * *

The large study echoed with the ticking of a large grandfather clock, interspersed with the shuffling of papers from a desk nearby. A few well-dressed figures hurried around the room with these sheets of parchment, each speaking in urgent whispers while occasionally glancing back at the figure positioned by the window. The boy in question was glaring outside, his fingers drumming a quiet pattern against the cool glass. The casual observer may have noted that he was short for his age, a trait typical of his family line. His fair hair, neatly trimmed, brushed against the nape of his neck as the wind lifted it, and his bright eyes gleamed calculatingly as he gazed down at the townspeople hurrying about below him. His already tense shoulders stiffened all the more as fierce arguing erupted behind him; evidently, the other men had abandoned all attempts of remaining silent, against his wishes.

As the noise reached its climax, he spun around to face them, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "Enough!" he roared. Though his voice was still that of a child's, it held an authority unlike that of anyone else his age. Even so, they didn't seem to hear him; if anything they only seemed to grow louder. With a grunt of frustration, he spun towards a solitary figure that stood by the wall a few feet away. Long, fair hair hung over her shoulders in waves, fastened securely behind her head with a thin leather band. The simple dress she wore was adorned only with a light covering of chainmail—it was in no way something a normal girl of the kingdom might wear. Of course, she was not a normal girl. Hanging at her side was a long, black leather scabbard, and sheathed within it was a long sword of the same color, its handle molded with a carving of a rose. At a word from the boy, she strode over to the small cluster of men on the far side of the room, her gaze fixated on the one standing in its center. Leo Knox, the general of the Guard; he led the others crowded around him, and answered only to the king and, as it happened, the girl herself.

The others parted like water as she approached—none of them wanted to bear the punishment that their leader was undoubtedly about to face. The man himself barely had time to look up before the point of her blade was at his throat, swung into place with a single, graceful flick of her wrist. The look in her eyes as she glared up at him was cold, unyielding, yet held a bit of a bored air in it as well. Such a look from such a young girl was terrifying, to say the least. The group fell silent as they stared at the dark metal gleaming in the bright sunlight. The man gulped as he stared down the blade at the maiden, but her gaze never wavered, even as the boy behind her began to speak.

"I believe this meeting has long since been dismissed," he stated firmly. His tone was deceptively calm, in spite of the stormy look that shrouded his features. "Wouldn't you say so, gentlemen?"

"But your highness..!" one of them quickly spoke up, notably not the one with the sword pointed at his neck. "We have yet to reach a decision concerning—"

"Is that so? I believe we have, in fact." The leather soles of the boy's shoes were eerily silent as he made his way across the slate flooring. "I have already informed you all that we will _not_ be launching a counterattack against the Red kingdom. I am your king, need I remind you; my decision is final. You have no say in how I govern my kingdom, and therefore, this meeting is pointless."

The room echoed with silence as they stared at him, mouths hanging open in wordless confusion. Taking it as their agreement, he nodded once, a small smirk growing on his lips. "Good." He nodded again, this time at the slight girl among them, who instantly lowered her sword. "Alena, would you kindly see them out?"

The room rand with their protests as the girl ushered them out, her sword held threateningly before her. Soon, all but Knox had gone. He stood just outside the doorway, his face contorted into a furious grin. "You'll regret your decision soon enough, _highness_," he sneered as Alena slammed the door in his face.

As soon as the man had disappeared from sight, the boy sighed and collapsed into the chair behind his desk, his long blonde bangs falling across his closed eyelids. Alena sheathed her sword and joined him, and there they sat in silence as the maiden looked through the papers the men had left behind. "Those insolent fools," he muttered after a long moment. "I should have the lot of them executed."

"They _are_ right, you know," the girl stated earnestly, slapping a stack of the papers in front of him. "According to these, our sources have found that the kingdom of Red is planning to launch an invasion on—"

"Our sources are rarely reliable, and you know it." The boy did not even bother to open his eyes. "What more could they hope to do to us? We have already taken them over, haven't we? They have nothing left." He sighed in frustration and sat up. "Oh, whatever. Let those pitiful wretches try to usurp my throne. I'll crush them like the worms they are." A delighted smile lit his face as he looked up at the maiden. "Or, rather, you will crush them for me. Isn't that right, Alena?"

The blonde inclined her head slowly, her eyes remaining fixed on his own in a way that might have gotten any other servant executed on the spot. "As you wish, Reiniel."

The boy held her gaze for a moment before giving her a small, satisfied nod. "Good. Now then, about that sorry lot of—"

He was cut off as a small girl burst through the large oak doors across the room. It was a maid, one of many in the palace—but this particular maid, who went by the name of Chartette, happened to be the clumsiest of them all. "Your—your highness..!" she squeaked, her large red pigtails flying as she hurriedly bowed. "Derron Hendrick requests an audience with you, posthaste. He says it is of the utmost importance!"

Reiniel sighed, running a hand through his hair tiredly. "Everything that braggart does is supposedly important… All right, bring him in, then…"

"Y—yes, your highness!" The girl gave another clumsy bow before stumbling out of the room; moments later, she returned, followed closely by two new figures. The first was recognizably the aforementioned Hendrick. Tall, with a slight build and haughty expression, he was one of the few knights of the kingdom who was completely loyal to the king. He held himself proudly as he entered the room, pushing another man before him. the male was considerably less well off; ragged and worn clothing hung from his lanky frame, spotted her and there with dried blood. His face was smeared with the red substance too, clumping in his hairline where a not entirely obvious wound scored the skin just below his hairline. He was a peasant, and a significantly impoverished one at that. His head hung low as he was shoved into the room; with a swift kick from behind, he fell to his knees on the stone floor, crying out in pain on impact. With a frightened squeal, the maid quickly darted away, slamming the doors shut behind her.

"What seems to be the trouble, Hendrick?" Reiniel was all business again; his back was ramrod straight against his chair, and his hands were clasped neatly on the desk before him, leaving no trace of his former mood behind. A detached smile had settled on his lips—Alena recognized it as the expression he wore for surprise, but not entirely welcome visitors. It took a tremendous amount of effort to elicit even the smallest genuine smile from the boy, she knew, and even those were few and far between.

"My king!" the knight began quickly. "My men and I—well, I suppose it was mostly me, as they were not entirely present—captured this little rebel trying to coerce a crowd into an armed revolt against your majesty. It is treason of the highest order, as you well know. I suggest the death penalty for him, and request your permission to order it."

"Permission granted," the boy sighed. "A pity, though, that this pathetic little "revolution" was not put into action sooner. I should have liked to see a large public execution… There hasn't been one since before Father's death." After a small, thoughtful pause, he waved a hand at the two in dismissal. "Have him executed at noon tomorrow," he ordered as Hendrick turned to leave, pulling his charge along behind him, "on the guillotine. The guillotine executions are always the best." His last statement was accompanied by a sickening smirk, a look that made the knight across the room visibly flinch.

All of a sudden, the peasant man launched himself to his feet, his bound hands scrabbling painfully against the grey slate beneath him as he struggled to rise. "Your highness, please rethink your judgment!" he yelled. "I did nothing wrong! I only told my brothers and sisters of what was true and just! A world that existed far before your birth, when we held the freedom to do as we desired without fearing for our lives, and when our king was just and kind—"

"Silence!" The fair haired boy had leapt to his feet, amid the clatter of his overturned chair. "I will not tolerate this insurrection! Hendrick, take him away—"

"I remember the days before these cursed taxes!" The man's voice had risen to a mad wail. "Before the suffering of our people, before the war and bloodshed—"

"Shut him up, for god's sake!" Reiniel shouted to no one in particular. When neither of the other two moved to respond to his request, he furiously stalked towards the speechless knight. Yanking the man's sword from its scabbard, he swung the blade back, stumbling under its massive weight as it gradually pulled him backwards. Within moments, Alena was at his side; pulling her own sword from its pace at her side, she drew it back—in a much more skilled replication of the king's attempt—and drove it home in the man's chest. His mouth opened in a silent 'O' as the words ceased to flow from his mouth; then, slowly, he toppled forward as Alena calmly yanked her sword out of his corpse.

The room was completely silent for a moment, broken finally by the sound of Hendrick's sword clattering to the ground as the boy dropped it. "A pity there won't be an execution on the morrow after all," he sighed melodramatically, as if nothing had happened. "I was _so_ looking forward to it." The knight gaped at him in unconcealed shock, looking first from one blonde to the other. The maiden knelt silently beside the dead corpse to clean her sword, while Reiniel strode back to his desk. He glanced behind him a moment later, almost as if he was surprised to see the knight still standing there. "You are _dismissed_, Hendrick," he intoned, none to gently. The man hesitated for only a second before starting for the door, but Reiniel's voice stopped him midstep. "Oh, and Hendrick? Have someone come clean up this mess, will you?" Hurriedly, the knight nodded and exited the room, nearly running into the red-haired maid in his haste to leave.

"E-excuse me, sir!" she gasped as she stumbled backwards into the room, a tray precariously balanced on her outstretched hand. Quickly, she wheeled to face the inhabitants of the room and, studiously avoiding the corpse at her feet, announced, "T-tea, your highness!"

"Oh, it's tea time." The boy looked pleased as he spoke the familiar phrase. He quickly beckoned for the girl, who tripped her way across the floor to set the tray on his desk. As she attempted to bow while holding the tray, Alena finished her task and quietly stood, making her way once again to Reiniel's side. Relieving the maid of her tray, she set it on the desk as she had intended to do and sat in a chair beside the king. With a mournful look, the redhead bowed again and hurried from the room, nearly tripping into the sticky pool of blood that now surrounded the dead body at the door.

When she had gone, Reiniel slowly picked up one of the delicate white teacups from the silver tray and sat contemplating it as Alena poured the tea. "Earl Grey," he mused softly as the dense aroma rose from his cup in a cloud of steam. "Father used to drink this, didn't he?" When he received no response, he shrugged. "No wonder Father was such a fool of a man. He was content with only a miniscule patch of land, a race of numbskulls to lead, and cups of dishwater every morning. Such is the recipe for disaster, and such was his reward. I will not be made a fool by following in his footsteps." With that, he unceremoniously dumped the tea back into the pot and sat back in his seat. After a long moment, he cast a sidelong glance at the blonde beside him, who sat staring into her teacup with a guarded expression. "Don't you believe me, Alena?"

The girl was silent for a time, but slowly, without looking up at him, she spoke her reply, each word uttered carefully. "I fear…it may already be too late…"


	2. Chapter 2

"Sir! A courier has brought an urgent message from the front lines!"

"The front lines—for god's sake, bring it here… What is the meaning of this?!"

"It is not for me to say, highness. I am only the messenger."

"A bloody good messenger you are, too… Go on, get out of here! I can't very well ready this with you staring over my shoulder, can I?"

"No, sir. Thank you, sir, I—"

"Get out!"

The door shut with a clang behind the maid as she hurried from the room. Sighing, Reiniel spared a glance at the blonde beside him as he split open the wax seal. She spoke before he could get a word out. "Do you really have to be so cruel to them?"

"How else will they learn?" The boy momentarily forgot about the letter he was holding. "If one is lenient on one's servants, they will become lax and lazy. If one is firm and does not shy away from discipline, they will become loyal and obedient to the end. You should know this better than anyone, Alena."

"One can only take it so far before it becomes useless and ceases to be effective," she replied. "With too harsh and stern a hand, one shall become fearful and resentful; if one were to let such build up long enough, it would be sure to result in—"

"That is _quite_ enough, Alena." The catch in his voice was enough to stop her short. "Now, let us return to the matter on hand." She only gave a small, self-deprecating shrug of her shoulders, as if to say, _As you wish_.

Quite against her will, she found herself leaning forward to read the letter as curiosity consumed her interest. She had only made it about halfway through when Reiniel suddenly threw it down with a grunt of disgust. "What the bloody hell is the matter with that man?!" Launching himself from his seat, he strode to the window where he stood fuming, with eyes closed and hands balled at his sides. Alena had known him for long enough to reckon that she should not bother him just yet when he was in such obvious distress; instead, her curiosity reinforced, she picked the letter up from the floor and quickly scanned the remaining half.

_I send my belated apologies to you, my highness, for the uncalled for actions of my superiors. I also apologize that I was unable to repot our actions sooner, in a fashion that might have prevented this unnecessary attack. Unfortunately, I was powerless to stop their plans, and so, they ordered an attack on Tsu Kanesh, a small fishing village just past the boundaries of the Red kingdom, at 0700 this morning. I pray that you will soon halt this useless conflict with all haste, and be lenient with my punishment, as I only intended to serve my kingdom and my king._

_Your humble and loyal servant,_

_Thomas Kasenelle, 26th Division of the Lucifian Royal Guard_

"He can't be serious!" Alena swung her gaze up towards Reiniel in consternation. "I cannot believe Leo actually went through with the attack. We _both_ gave him explicit orders _not_ to."

Reiniel's only response was to slam a fist against the wall beside him, causing the thin glass of the window to tremble. "That idiot, Knox…" he growled low in his throat. "How _dare_ he! I'll have his head on a platter, I'll have him flayed until he cannot speak any longer, I'll…" Even as he turned to her, she could see the pain that filled his eyes; the frustration of having his orders be completely ignored, anger at the way Knox had effortlessly compromised his power, and, above all, the unspoken plea for her to do something, _anything_, to fix it all. How many times had he cast that look on her before? Certainly too many to count. It always seemed as if, to him, she was the one who fix everything, could do anything he wished, if only he would ask. She didn't blame him for it—after all, it was her duty to serve her king and obey him without question. Though sometimes, Alena allowed herself to wonder what would become of them all if she wasn't there to assist him. Would he have found someone else to replace her? Or would the kingdom simply fall into ruin? The thought was too horrible for to stand thinking about; instead, she dropped to one knee before the anguished boy and dipped her head. "What would you have me do, my king?"

Silence stretched like a wall between them as Reiniel regarded her with a slow calculating gaze. Finally, she raised her head, and was greeted by the slow smile that stretched across his face. "Bring the Guard back," he said quietly, "without celebration of any kind. Their actions were a disgrace to the whole kingdom. Make sure everyone knows that. And as for Knox… I think a surprise could be arranged for him upon his return, eh, Alena? Surprise me."

The girl's eyes glittered just as darkly as his own as she gazed up at his cruel face. She knew exactly what he meant—but could she really carry his orders out? The man had disobeyed his king's orders, but was such a harsh punishment necessary? _I am not like him. I am not as ruthless as this boy who wears my face. I am not incapable of mercy. _But somehow, she knew that she couldn't make her own decision on the matter. Not only did she not dare to disobey his orders, she knew that she couldn't; the blood oath that bound them prevented her from making her own choice, and from craving to disobey his orders. She was sworn to protect him, to follow him to the ends of the earth, was she not? But even so, how could she possibly be so heartless?

But instead of voicing her thoughts, she merely gave the boy a small, nearly imperceptible nod and murmured, "As you wish." And then, under her breath: _I suppose I am no better than you after all, Reiniel…_

* * *

The city's streets teemed with people, all crowded together under the blazing noonday sun. Under normal circumstances, each person would be cheering at the top of their lungs, and wild-eyed children would be gazing in awe at the heroes they so admired. Today, however, the crowd was eerily silent; the only noise was of the pounding footsteps echoing against the cobblestones as the army slowly marched by. Heads down, with dejected grimaces on their faces, they looked the very picture of a vanquished army, save for the obvious lack of injuries. Why? many of the onlookers asked. Why do they look so despondent when they came home unscathed? What most did not know was that the general of said army had directly disobeyed the king's orders in even attempting the recent attack, shedding disgrace upon the whole army. And only the most observant of them would have noticed that he, along with the blond-haired maiden who had ordered their return, were strangely absent. But the majority of the public's attention was fixated on the sight laid out before them, their gazes held by the marching uniforms as the men trundled up the road. It never occurred to any of them what might be happening elsewhere, just out of their line of sight.

Not far away from the resident-lined streets, a small stream flowed through a sparse cluster of trees on the outskirts of town. Bright, clear water ran across the smooth white pebbles of its gravely bottom; soon, however, it all became tinged with a red hue. A man had been laid face down farther upstream, and the water slowly carried the blood away from the fatal wound in his chest. The red substance darkened his damp hair to a deep brown in the shadowy light. His limbs floated aimlessly in the pale shadow of the figure that stood above him. Long blonde hair shifted in the breeze as she sheathed her sword, now stained with the man's blood. Her gaze never left the still form below her. She stood contemplating it for a moment, then gave it a strong kick to send it on its way downstream. Then, with one last glance at the bloodied water, she turned and departed.

As soon as she disappeared through the trees, another figure ran down the bank, splashing into the red tinted water. A young girl, her face bent in anguish; she rushed to stop the body before it could slip around the bend. "F-Father..!" came the whispered shout. Her cropped brown locks fluttered in the breeze as she flung herself down beside the body and took one of his cold hands disbelievingly in her own. "Father… How—How could they do this to you..?!" Tears spilled down her pale cheeks as sobs wracked her thin frame. She sat this way for a long while until her grief had run its course. Then, finally, she sat up, her eyes lighting slightly as she remembered something. Quickly, she strained to flip her father over, so that his face was visible, in all of its dead pallor. Reaching into the breast pocket of his uniform, she drew out a small ring, fitted with a round red stone. Her expression serious, she slipped it over her finger, where it slid into place perfectly, as if it had been fitted to her hands. One side was engraved with a curling script, spelling out a familiar phrase, one that she knew by heart: _Rubrum enim vivimos, In libertate moriamur._ For Red we live, for Freedom we die. It was the saying of her people, their only hope now that their independence had been stolen away from them by the kingdom of Yellow. It fit her deceased father perfectly; he had died for his freedom, hadn't he? If only he had timed it better, he could have called off the attack and slipped away into the village, all in the same breath. And then, they would have been together again.

But no, the king and his cold-hearted warrior maiden had stolen her only family from her, just when she had dared to hope that he would be returned to her. As always, the young tyrant had crushed her dreams carelessly underfoot, this time taking her father along with them. The gem she had taken from her father glittered darkly from her finger, mirroring his blood beside her. How could she let her father's murderer live without some king of punishment? What kind of daughter would she be if she didn't carry out her father's legacy? She would bring him honor, even if it was posthumously. She would restore her people's freedom, even if it meant her own life was taken as well. And, most important of all, she would avenge her father and send the brat who resided on Lucifenia's throne back to the hell he came from. And she would start now.

Standing, she brushed the mud off of her skirt and began to depart. Her gaze lingered on the body in front of her, but she quickly turned away, lest the tears return to her eyes. "Don't worry, Father," she whispered in a voice choked with emotion. "I'll kill him. I'll kill the Rose. Your death won't be in vain, I swear it." Her gaze lifted to the palace that towered above her as she spoke the words, and her expression hardened. "Watch out, your _majesty_," she sneered. "Lest your evil deeds come back from the dead to haunt you."


	3. Chapter 3

_"Look, Kaity, look! Look at what I drew!"_

_"Oh, how adorable, Reiniel! What is it?"_

_"It's _you_! See?"_

_"Of course it is! Silly me!"_

_"Here, it's for you!"_

_"Oh, how sweet of you! I love it!"_

_"Do you really?"_

_"Of course! It was made by my favorite little prince. Now, let's go find Rilliene, shall we?"_

_"Rilliene..?"_

_"Yes, silly. Rilliene. Your sister. How could you forget her?"_

_"Rilliene… But…she's been dead for nine years…"_

Darkness greeted the boy's eyes as they snapped open, revealing the molded white ceiling of his bedroom. His heart pounding rapidly within his chest, it took him a few moments to remember where, and when, he was. "It was only a dream…" That was what he told himself every night he had the dream, but each succeeding night, it only seemed more real, as if the memory had been dredged up from the recesses of his mind and twisted just to torture him.

Rilliene. His twin sister, younger by only a few minutes, had been taken from him when they were six, and had been reported dead only a few days later. Even at that age, he knew the truth, though. His father had never wanted a daughter, much less twins. He had wanted a son, to train in order to succeed him as the next king. A daughter would only get in the way, he had always said. He wanted the girl dead from the moment he laid eyes on her, but their mother, his wife, wouldn't let him touch her. It was only upon her death a few months before their seventh birthday that he had finally gotten his way. Reiniel wasn't blind enough to miss that fact.

Soon after, his father began training him to be his successor, barely allowing him any time to grieve his sister's death. It was if he were trying to force himself to forget that she had ever existed, and forced his son to do so as well. As a result, Rilliene soon vanished from his thoughts, but not soon enough to soften the bitter hatred he felt towards his father. The doctors had announced his father's death years later to be a result of a sudden illness, but Reiniel alone knew the truth. He hadn't even told Alena, his closest confidant since his sister, what he had done.

He was gripped with sudden vertigo as he sat up and moved to get out of bed, only barely managing to catch himself before he toppled to the floor. When had he become so weakened by mere dreams? That was all they were: dreams, images and scenes created in his sleep. So why should they affect his waking hours too? No matter how much he told himself this, the onerous scene remained imprinted in his vision, haunting him thousands of times each day. Kaitlyn, his childhood friend, and his past self, both asking the same question: Where is Rilliene? He shook his head abruptly and lurched to the window a few feet away, where he stood glaring at the first rays of the rising sun. There had to be something that would stop these dreams. Somehow, he needed to do something to relieve that part of him that still mourned his sister's murder, for that was what he believed the cause to be. Slowly, he ran through each painful detail, analyzing the similarities between each of the subtly different dreams he had had over the past few months. Finally, after an hour of pondering the issue, he recognized only two: his sister's absence, and his and Kaitlyn's presence together.

And then, as the sun blazed forth from over the horizon, he knew what he had to do.

* * *

"Your highness, a letter has arrived from the kingdom of Yellow," a young maid announced. She hovered near the door, a small piece of pale parchment held loosely in her fingers.

The blue-haired woman seated inside looked up from the report she had been reading with a puzzled frown. "A letter from the Yellow kingdom… From the king?" The girl nodded once in affirmation before slowly striding across the room to hand it to her. "Why in the world would Reiniel send me a letter..?" she mused, more to herself than the servant girl waiting patiently beside her. After a moment, she caught herself and flashed a small smile at her. "That will be all, Ney. Thank you." A smile flitted across the maid's face for a brief second, but it quickly faded as she turned to take her leave.

Now alone, the princess turned back to the small sheet of paper she now held. There was no doubt that it was indeed from Reiniel; no one in any kingdom could replicate the intricate wax seal of the royal family of Lucifenia. A long rapier-like sword, wrapped around by an elegant rose-studded vine. It was the same as it had always been, but now that Reiniel had come to power, it seemed to hold a much darker meaning. The sword represented the people of Lucifenia, she imagined, and the curling vine his iron will, slowly choking the strength from his subjects. The thought was enough to make her shiver with sudden alarm.

Quickly putting aside her thoughts, she slit open the seal, suddenly consumed by a burning curiosity to see what lay inside. It was addressed to her, oddly enough, instead of her late father. The realization startled her sending a jolt of fear through her nerves. Her father had only just died a month ago, and she had not yet been crowned queen, so all official mail would be addressed to him. Why, then, was her name on the letter? Surely Reiniel would know this and act accordingly.

His name cast her back to the horrors he had committed. She had heard only tales of his treachery from the Solenian refugees to whom she had offered solace within her walls, and these alone were enough to make her doubt her memories of the sweet, innocent little boy she had once known. Something had changed in him since his sister's death; she had guessed as much long ago, but only recently had it been confirmed. It was as if Rilliene had taken with her everything good and kind that was in him, leaving behind a cold, uncompassionate shell instead. She had seen Reiniel only once since, a few years after her death had occurred, and now that she thought about it, he had scared her even then, in a way that he never had before.

The seal parted easily under the sharp blade of her knife; the two halves peeled away, revealing the neat scrawl hidden within. His penmanship left much to be desired, but it held a bit of a flair, as if he actually meant for it to appear that way. As a result, it was a bit hard to read, and she had to focus to decipher the first few sentences. It became easier as she moved on, though, and soon her eyes flitted across the paper as she silently took it in. Suddenly, near the middle, she froze, and then quickly went back to scan the last few lines she had read again. "He…what?" she murmured absently to herself. A small perplexed smile creased her lips as she slowly finished the rest of the letter; then, carefully, she set it aside and began to write a response to the boy she had once loved.

* * *

_My dearest Kaitlyn,_

_I feel as though I have known you all my life, though it has only been about ten years. It is funny how time flies, isn't it? You are as much a part of me as my late parents and sister were, even to their deaths. I do not mean to scare you on that account, however, for this letter has an entirely different purpose._

_I realize that our kingdoms are not one the best of terms at this moment, though I assure you it was never my intention for it to be so. Your father was simply a disagreeable man in his lifetime—and I am now truly sorry if I have offended you, for I know I must have. Do remember, though, that you are not the only one to have lost their father._

_In any case, I only wish for our kingdoms to be united, living together in harmony as they once did while my father was still on the throne. And so, I have come to this conclusion: I love you, Kaitlyn. I have since we were young, and the three of us would sit and talk for hours. At the time, in my na__i__vety, I did not realize it; after all, I was only six years old. How can children possibly understand such feelings? But I have come to understand now, years later, that my heart is fully yours, and has been since we first met, so long ago. And now, it is my hope that you will marry me, if not in reciprocation of my feelings for you, then to ensure peace between our two nations as long as we both shall live. I know that your people are in your best interest; it is evident in every decision you have made in your father's absence. As a result, for their sakes, I believe that you will see this as your best option, as I do._

_Most sincerely,_

_Reiniel Lucifen d'Autriche of Lucifenia_


	4. Chapter 4

Slick stone steps led down the passageway, curving in a spiral that led ever downward. Lichen hung in clumps on the damp walls, and every few feet a torch flickered weakly from within its bracket. It was a dismal place, reserved for the worst of criminals, and otherwise unvisited; but on this day, a single soul found the occasion to traverse its depths.

Hurrying down the steep stairway came a lone figure, wrapped in a cloak as black as the night waiting beyond the stone walls. Strands of fair hair escaped the hood drawn over its head, standing out brightly against the dark material as torchlight shimmered in it. The guards in the chamber below soon heard the light patter of footsteps; most had fallen into slumber, but soon were awake and at attention in time to greet the figure who made its way among them. "At ease," came the soft command, a strangely hollow echo of what it normally would have been. The guards exchanged looks among each other, but didn't question it, even as they were sent away.

As soon as they had departed, the blonde cast off his hood, revealing the face of the young king. The expression on his face was unreadable, but anyone would have guessed that something was wrong; after all, he would never willingly come down to the prison cells under normal circumstances, and especially not alone. After a moment of silence, the boy began to speak. "I need your help," he muttered quietly. "Will you listen to what I have to say?"

Only then did the man crouched within the cell before him raise his head to stare at his king. He would have never imagine such words coming from this cruel-hearted monarch, nor would he have guessed that such cold mannerisms could give way to the childish uncertainty he now displayed. In his astonishment, he forgot to answer, but Reiniel was already a step ahead of him. "Of course," he said with narrowed eyes, "if you don't obey the orders that I am about to give you, I will have you executed. Have I made myself clear?"

"Y-yes, my lord…" A slight sense of normalcy pervaded the silence as a bit of his normal behavior came back, but the man still was ill at ease and unusually curious to know what the boy had to say. Trying not to let either show, he sat up enough to look him in the eye, a dangerous practice for a prisoner such as himself.

But Reiniel didn't seem to notice. "I am willing to reappoint you to your former position," he continued, "or even have you replace your late general… Leo was his name, correct? But before I do so, I must have your unwavering loyalty first."

The man—who answered to the name of Gannon—nodded eagerly; in his mind, anything would be better than rotting in this prison cell. "What would you have me do, my liege?"

A cold light seemed to enter the boy's eyes as he contemplated his next words; then with a small, sly grin, he leaned forward so that his mouth was just beside Gannon's ear. A shudder ran through the man at his next words, chilling him to the bone.

"Make sure the Green country is badly stirred."

* * *

_Reiniel,_

_I am afraid that I cannot accept your proposal of marriage, despite your obviously good intentions. As it happens, I have already fallen in love with a man from the kingdom of Green; in fact, we are engaged to be married in the spring of next year. I am terribly sorry for the confusion on that part, as not many people know of this news; I pray that we might find another way to strengthen relations between our two kingdoms. And above all, I hope that we may be able to pursue once again the friendship we once had in our childhood._

_With the best of regards,_

_Kaitlyn Algere von Hess of Algenia_


	5. Chapter 5

Alena well remembered a particular event from her childhood. It was one of her most prominent memories, dominating most everything else she experienced in her young life: battles she had fought in, conversations with Reiniel—all paled before this. It had occurred on a trip she had made with her adoptive family to the capital of the kingdom of Green. They had had plans to visit relatives of theirs, people that Alena had never met, but whom they seemed to hold in high regard. Upon their arrival at the gates of the small castle town, a large crowd had swept them apart, separating her from the rest of her family in a split second. She searched frantically for them for what seemed like hours, shoving through numerous crowds in the hopes that she would catch even a glimpse of one of them, but soon enough, she found herself in a side alley, thoroughly lost and completely alone. But she didn't stand there and weep, as other girls may have done; instead, she sat down calmly on an overturned crate and waited for someone to find her. The others would notice her absence soon enough, and when they did, she would be sitting right there, patiently waiting for them.

She heard the approaching footsteps before their owner fully came in to view. Tall, with the sea green hair of his people and a gentle smile, he stood over her with a question on his lips. He seemed to be only a year or two older than her, she thought. Despite his poor appearance, he looked much better than she had felt. _I must look a wreck now_, she had speculated at the time, _after pushing through so many crowds of dirty people_. Normally, she wouldn't have cared what she looked like, but the way this boy looked at her made her strangely self-conscious, as if the crowds had bared her instead of adding layers of sweat and grime on. She had never felt this way before, and it scared her. It wasn't as if she had never seen a boy, of course; she had three adoptive brothers, and played with the boys in her neighborhood besides. But something about this one specimen of the male race was _different_, and somehow it thrilled and terrified her all at once. Despite it all, she was careful to school her features into their normal visage of flat unconcern, as she had always done.

"You're not from around here, are you?" The voice that spoke to her had an odd lilt to it, strange but not entirely unpleasing. Though his speech was plain, it enticed her, fascinated her with its smooth, unhurried undulance. But before she could reply, he plowed on. "I know because I saw others like you," he explained hurriedly. "They had hair like yours. Or, at least, not like ours." He ran a hand through his own locks with a nervous laugh before sticking out the other to help her up. "My name's Michael. Michael Germain. What's yours?"

In her surprise, she very nearly gave him the name she had been born with, but stopped herself just in time. "Alena Avedon…" she responded instead.

"A cute name for a cute girl," he added with a smile, as if it were a fact rather than his own opinion. Despite herself, Alena felt the blood rush to her cheeks unexpectedly. When had she gained such unreasonable behaviors? Before that day, she had almost led herself to believe that she was just another boy, like those she played with, and the other children had treated her as such; now, filthy and bedraggled as she was, this strange boy was treating her like she was made of gold.

As if sensing her discomfort, Michael, turned to face the mouth of the alley. "I know where they are. Your family, that is. I can take you to them." He glanced over his shoulder at her with another of his steady smiles.

It took Alena only a moment to make up her mind. Nodding in agreement, she said, "If you would be so kind…" And then they were off, her hand in his, weaving their way through throngs of people, between buildings, past market stalls, and the whole while, Alena could not stop being acutely aware of it all: her small hand encased in his larger one, his light laughter as she ran into him yet again, the happy smile he shot at her when he thought she wasn't looking. He made her laugh as she never had before with his witty comments about the people they saw, and amazed her with his limitless knowledge of the town. He fascinated her in a way that she never had been with anyone else.

But all too soon, their trek was over, and she was once again reunited with her worried family. And then, when she turned around to thank him, he was gone, vanished into the crowds beyond without so much as a goodbye.

Now, again, she was surrounded by strangers in a strange town, but now, everyone she saw wore his face. A village full of them, their faces silhouetted by the fires that raged behind them, each bearing the distinct green hair that marked them as his brothers and sisters. It almost stopped her in her tracks, made her refuse to carry out the orders she had been given and accept whatever penalty she would receive. But she couldn't. She was required to obey her king, to obey Reiniel, without fail, and whether she agreed with his orders was not her opinion to make. The despairing look on his face as she left had been enough to renew the unwavering loyalty she held for him; it had been more than she could possibly bear to see him in so much pain. What punishment could possibly be worse than seeing him thrown into the same despair again? It would certainly be worse than death. But still, how could she choose between the two boys she loved?

Despite her shortcomings, she surged forward, Reiniel's voice propelling her forward into the thick of the fray. Life after life passed before her eyes, as if she were a mortal grim reaper; their blood stained her sword crimson red, each drop containing another soul that she had stolen life from. The guilt was overwhelming, yet she couldn't stop herself now. She had become a mere bystander, watching as a total stranger moved her limbs in their murderous dance. And, as all this happened around her, she could only think one thought, could only whisper one word, over and over as she slaughtered the innocent before her.

_Michael… Michael, where are you..?_

* * *

"We are assembled today to advise a plan for the invasion of the kingdom of Merdona…"

The large hall echoed with the booming of men's voices. Twelve of them were seated around a long oak table, and in turn, each voiced his own opinion concerning the upcoming attack on green lands. The meeting was led by Gannon Venomia, the new general of the Lucifian Royal Guard, who had only recently been released from prison. Scattered around the room were different ranks of commanding officers, whom he had insisted upon bringing with him. At the far side of the table, only a short distance from the rest, sat Reiniel, and beside him, Alena. The maiden looked decidedly neutral, as was her custom, but a worried frown had soon pervaded her normally calm demeanor. Reiniel, on his part, was the very epitome of boredom, though he had been the one to call for the meeting in the first place. While he was the most eager of them all for the attack to be launched, the expression on his face made it very clear that he regretted the decision to call a meeting to discuss it now, especially as the officers around the two adolescents began a particularly boring argument over whether to include the cavalry in the initial attack or not.

"What is today's snack?" he asked during a brief lull in the shouting, momentarily garnering his commander in chief's attention.

"Brioche," she replied curtly, her focus obviously prioritized on the topic being discussed.

Frowning at her unwillingness to converse, he tried another tactic. "It will be no trouble at all for you to crush that Green scum, will it, Alena?"

A pained look flitted across her face, so briefly that he almost thought he imagined it. Rather than answer, though, she asked a question of her own. "Is it really necessary for me to do this, your highness?"

"Of course it is. How many times must I explain it to you? Without you, this group of fumbling dolts is like to be captured, or something even more stupid. No, you are our only hope of success, Alena."

The maiden was silent for a moment, but then slowly nodded. "As you wish…"

Reiniel was silent for the rest of the meeting, lost in his own thoughts, as Alena was. He spoke only to excuse the two of them from the room afterwards to retire for the night. As soon as the door of his room shut behind them, he collapsed into a chair by the hearth with a quiet groan. The painful set of his shoulders alarmed Alena, as did the desolate expression that had suddenly come upon his features. But before she could ask him what was wrong, he spoke up. "Do you think she will ever forgive me?" he asked quietly. It took her a moment to think of who "she" might be, but after a moment, she realized that he could only mean Kaitlyn. Reiniel must truly love her, she thought with a start. She had never seen him in so much distress over anyone before, nor had she ever thought that he could genuinely care for someone as he obviously cared for her. Of course, she knew that he had felt much affection for his sister in her lifetime—he had often told her as much—but since then, he had remained so cold and distant that she thought he may never feel such feelings for anyone again.

But now Kaitlyn had turned him down, the one such offer he had dared to make to anyone, and she had crushed these newly fledged feelings underfoot. And now he wondered if he would hate her—not for what he had already done, but for what he was about to do. It was entirely possible that she would never forgive him for murdering her lover, as he planned to do, but how could she tell him such a thing, especially when he was in such a state of desolation?

So instead, she took his hand in hers and whispered, "It is likely that she may hate you but, in time, she may also come to forgive you."

"Don't lie to me, Alena." The boy's voice was bitter now. "It is not possible for her to ever forgive me. After all, I will never forgive her for how she treated me, so how can I expect her to reciprocate that which I do not feel?"

"Call off the attack, then."

"I cannot! It would only jeopardize my position if I promised Gannon and the others a war that was not forthcoming. And besides, I cannot forgive that man of Green so easily for stealing Kaitlyn from me. Speaking of whom," he started, momentarily distracting himself from his melancholy. "My informants have supplied us with that Green bastard's identity. Have an alert sent out to apprehend anyone who meets his description. Alena nodded as he rose to retrieve a sheet of parchment from his desk; returning to his seat, he pressed it firmly into her hand. She noted with some worry that his hand was shaking. "As soon as you are finished with that, prepare the Royal Guard for battle. Arm the local militia as well. I could care less what Gannon and the others decided in that bloody war council; you will leave tonight, and not a moment later. Start at the village of Eladon in the north and move inwards, towards the capital. Clear out anyone who could possibly be him. Now go." Quickly, he turned his back on her, the stiff set of his shoulders welcoming no further conversation.

Taking her cue to leave, Alena made her way to the door but not before catching a glimpse of the strained expression on his face, his desperate, unspoken plea for help. But there was nothing she could do for him—at least, not yet. And as if his orders hadn't stung enough, here was yet another jab at her heart. She would do anything for this boy, anything at all, and yet he never let her close enough to provide him with any measure of comfort. Time had separated them, had made two completely different people out of them. So even though she had tried to devote herself to him, both as her king and her friend, would she really be able to commit something so terrible as genocide, even if it would make him happy?

Safely outside in the corridor, with the door shut firmly behind her, she finally dared to glance down at the crumpled paper Reiniel had given her. Any last vestiges of hope she might have had soon crumbled as she read the first words on the page; then, weakly, she allowed herself to slip to the floor.

_Name: Michael Germain_


	6. Chapter 6

Days on the road had wearied the men under Alena's command; footsore and despondent, they shuffled down the path that separated Agonithe, their latest target, from the castle town of Melegone. Though they had been successful so far, and the final stretch of their expedition was in sight, the overall moral of the group had dropped considerably since they had first set out.

The first few towns they had encountered had been easy prey, completely unsuspecting of their coming destruction. They had cleaned those areas out, leaving behind almost no one to tell the tale of the annihilation of these villages. In the nights following, Alena had overheard more than one soldier crying himself to sleep, plagued by visions of the innocent blood they had shed. And though she was far more experienced than some of them, the same visions haunted her too, in far greater detail than she would care to admit.

Not long after these battles, the villages in their path seemed to have some inkling of what to expect. More and more often, they were met with some resistance, though it was never enough to make much of a difference. Even now, they had only lost about a dozen men, and had half that number in casualties. It scared Alena to see how defenseless the Merdonians were, and how easily they fell before their blades. But what frightened her most was the possibility of Michael living in one of these villages that they had systematically slaughtered—what if he was caught up in the fray and murdered before she could do anything? How could she live with herself if she allowed that to happen?

The thought weighed heavily on her mind as they trudged down the worn dirt path, the miles falling away behind their marching feet. Glancing up at the sun, Alena estimated that they would reach Melegone by late afternoon, allowing them a few hours rest before they mounted their final attack at nightfall. This battle would be significantly harder and more costly than the others had been; it was, after all, the capital city of the kingdom of Green. But she was well prepared for it, as prepared as she could be to slaughter more innocent people. On the other hand, she still hadn't prepared herself for the inevitability of Michael's death; she had had a feeling all along that he still resided in this town, the town where she had first met him. Would she be able to find him in time to save him? Or would she have to feign indifference as she watched him die, just as she had watched so many Merdonians die before him?

The Guard reached the outskirts of Melegone just as the sun was setting, just as Alena had predicted. Quickly, they set up a temporary camp at the edge of the tree line, just out of sight of the city. Afterwards, most of the soldiers, except for those elected to take the first watch, retreated into their much needed slumber, but Alena soon found that she couldn't sleep. Even as she sat up to watch the sun set peacefully over the red-tinged horizon, she could only think of the green-haired boy who had stolen her heart, and could only see the icy blue eyes of the boy who commanded her loyalty. To save one, she must defy the other; but to follow the latter's orders would surely mean the first's death. What choice could she make? Either path she took would result in the loss of one of the only two people that she loved on this earth—there was no middle ground, no fairytale ending to this story. She had no choice, and yet she knew that she still must make one. So which ending would she pick?

She must have eventually drifted off to sleep after all, because the next thing she remembered was a soldier shaking her awake in passing as the camp sprang to life. Night had finally fallen, its unbreakable darkness seeming to swallow up the stars all at once. _A perfect night for an attack_, Alena thought absently as she gathered her gear together. _Absolutely bloody perfect_. As she watched, the blackened sky she saw through the shadowy trees reflected the bright torchlight from within the town's walls, illuminating the air around it in a foggy yellow halo. It was a beautiful sight, yet the maiden could too easily imagine it as the glow from raging fires that hungrily spread through the city, consuming all the life that surged within. On tonight of all nights, it wasn't too terribly hard to believe.

"Our final victory is at hand," she announced a few minutes later as she addressed the assembled men of the militia and Royal Guard. "You have all done well in serving your country so far. We have beaten the insolent Green wretches without much difficulty, and this time will be no different. While our enemy is stronger at this central point of their country, we will nonetheless emerge victorious once again, both for ourselves and for our king who sent us. I trust you all will fight relentlessly, with the goal of accomplishing this task that has been set before us. There will be no conceding to the enemy, and no allowances of any kind. Are you ready?" A deafening cheer was her only reply; hurriedly, she quieted them, so as not to alert the nearby city of their presence. Then, with her sword in hand and a heavy heart in tow, she led her invigorated army forward into the heart of Merdona.

* * *

The first few minutes of battle were a blur. Somehow, the group managed to get past the guards at the gate without raising any alarms, but their luck slipped as they set foot on the first of the cobble-lined streets. Soldiers garbed in bright green tunics poured out of side streets to surround them, their blades shining dully as they stepped into the torchlight. _They must have received word of our intentions_, Alena realized. It was the only explanation for how such a peaceful nation could have prepared for an attack of this caliber in such a short time. Though, as the battle ensued, it became more and more obvious that these soldiers were by no means as well trained as her own. They must have been recruited from a pool of denizens to protect their last stronghold, as a last ditch effort to fight the Lucifenians off. Unfortunately for them, it wasn't working very well.

A sudden lull in the fighting found Alena in a small plaza, no more than a hundred yards across. Wooden buildings surrounded it on all sides, allowing passage only through narrow alleys wedged between them. Elaborate green and grey stone was inlaid in circles beneath her feet, surprisingly beautiful despite the blood that had been smeared across its surface. Leaning against a wall to catch her breath, the girl brushed her pale hair back from her face where it had come loose from its leather band. Despite the calm that surrounded her, she could still hear the faint sounds of the battle raging in the distance. In this corridor, however, she seemed to have found a small measure of peace, at least for the moment.

It was short lived, though, as footsteps suddenly echoed against the cobbles behind her, beating out a muted staccato. Whirling towards the sound, she yanked her sword from its sheath in one fluid movement, only to find herself staring at a tall Merdonian youth, who stared at her with a look of mild alarm. He had stopped uncertainly a few feet away, obviously wary as he caught sight of her drawn blade. Resignedly, she started forward to carry out the orders she had been given, but found that she couldn't move after all as their eyes locked. There was something about him that seemed strangely familiar to her, though she could have sworn that she had never seen this boy before in her life. But somehow, she found that the thought wasn't true after all. Suddenly, an image from her distant memories overlaid his form in her mind: a much younger boy, not quite grown into his body yet, with green bangs that fell haphazardly into his eyes and a gentle smile. But…it couldn't be him, could it? It couldn't possibly be. Even as she tried to dispute the idea, she knew that it indeed was the boy she had met so long ago. He had changed, as had she; now, despite being tall for her age, he was a good head taller than her now, with broad shoulders atop his slim frame. His hair had been trimmed recently, yet still fell into his eyes, just as it had eight years ago. The tentative half-smile that he now wore was still the same, though, as were the kind eyes that shone out from under his fringe of hair: dark green, like the trees they had slept under hours ago, sprinkled with pale flecks like liquid gold. Her sword slipped bonelessly from her fingers as her breath caught painfully in her chest. She took one tentative step forward, and then another and another until finally she was only a few feet away.

"It seems as though you have a habit of sneaking up on me," she managed to say, even as emotion choked her words. Michael—for it was him, after all—had seemed to make the connection as well, for a broad smile suddenly lit up his face as he quickly moved to close the distance between them.

"It's been a long time…Alena."


	7. Chapter 7

If one were to look into the Plaza of the Sun in the city of Melegone at this time, one would have been sure to see the two figures that stood in its center. One was garbed in clothing of a servant, and bore the green locks of his country; the other wore chainmail, and was distinctly feminine despite her masculine appearance. They clung to each other in the darkness as if they would never come apart, could never be separated, even by the armies that waged their war only yards away. Isolated from the violence and bloodshed, they didn't break apart until long moments later. By then, the girl's face was wet with her tears. "I though I would never find you," she whispered raggedly. "I thought that you had been killed, that maybe I myself had killed you without realizing, or—"

The boy silenced her with a small smile. "I'm quite all right, aren't I?" His tone was light enough, but the underlying anxiety she heard in it belied the fear he surely felt.

"I…was not quite sure," she murmured in reply. "I could not be sure until I found you, safe and unscathed—"

"If you have been looking for me as you say," he started suddenly. "Then why have you been murdering my people as you come? Why not come here separately to find me before they arrived? Perhaps you could have warned us as well."

She stiffened in his arms as the accusation echoed in the stillness. This was the question she had known would come, the dreaded question that she wasn't sure she had an answer for. What could she tell him? Of her utter devotion to her misled king? That she couldn't care less who she had to kill, as long as it brought her to him? But instead of any of those options, she merely pulled away from him so that he could not see the pain that surely was evident on her features. "I had no other choice."

Before he could question her further, a loud shout arose from the center of town; the Lucifenians must have triumphed at last. Accompanying the noise was a loud rush of wind, followed seconds later by an eerie orange light that glowed against the wooden panels of nearby houses. At once, Alena knew what it must be. "Fire," she whispered quietly, and then louder, more urgently: "Fire..! They're setting the town on fire!" As if to prove her correct, a house across the square suddenly ignited, sending orange flames shooting up into the sky. With a startled curse, Michael released her, backing up into the wall behind them, but soon it too caught fire. Within seconds, all the buildings surrounding the plaza were nothing more than one large, collective inferno, spouting smoke up into the night air and showering sparks on their heads. It was only a matter of time until they went up in flames as well.

"We must leave now!" Alena yelled over the crackling fire. "I must get you out of this town, somewhere safe—"

"But where?" came his shouted reply. The girl hesitated for a minute, but suddenly, a thought came to her mind a memory of something she had seen as they began their march on the city.

_An abandoned cottage, set deep within the heart of the forest…_

"I know a place. Come with me now, quickly!" And without waiting for a reply, she took off running, his hand clutched tightly in her own.

* * *

Their flight was strangely reminiscent of a similar day years before. But instead of bustling streets full of people, they dodged burning homes and flaming wreckage, the empty, fiery buildings casting dark shadows across them as they fled. Destruction chased after them, eating up everything in its path as it sought them out hungrily; though, to Alena, it felt as if it were memories the fire was eating up instead. The smoke that poured through the streets fell in heavy clouds over them, choking the air from their lungs unrelentingly. Finally, they came free from the burning city and soon darted among the towering trees of the neighboring forest as Alena sought out their hiding place. At last, it came into sight, standing just as she remembered: an old, run down cottage set into a small clearing surrounded by thick-trunked oak trees. And there beside the house lay a well.

"You can't be serious," Michael exclaimed as she explained her plan. "How am I supposed to get out?"

"We can take care of that later," Alena muttered hurriedly, with a glance over her shoulder at the flames that now licked through the trees. "Now hurry up and climb down. We do not have much time. The fire is spreading through the forest, and when it gets here, you will be burnt to a crisp. You'll be safer down in the well—both from the fire and the army."

"But what about you?"

Sighing, she looked away. "I will have to return to my people. I have no other alternative."

"But—"

"Hear me out, Michael. Please. You will be safe if you stay here for the time being. I will return in three days time for you. I will find somewhere safe for you to hide—perhaps with the princess of the kingdom of Blue, your fiancée." She paused momentarily, for the last word left a bitter taste in her mouth. "In truth, I am not quite sure what we will do. I will think of something in time. But in any case, stay here until I come for you, please. I cannot bear the thought of losing you again, of saving you only to have my people capture and kill you because of the orders of a foolish boy."

Michael stared at her for a moment, his face an unreadable mix of emotions; but finally, he nodded in agreement. "Very well, then," he muttered. "I shall stay here and wait for you. But not for any longer than the three days. If you do not arrive before then, I will seek refuge elsewhere." Taking the well rope in his callused hands, he cast her one last wan smile as he swung a leg over the side of the stone-lined pit. "Oh, and Alena?" he called as she began to turn away. "Thank you." They were his last words to her as he quickly slid over the side and disappeared from view.

Alena stared at the well a moment as the newly created silence enveloped her. Silently, she shook her head at the darkened hole. "No…" she whispered. "No. Thank _you_…"


	8. Chapter 8

"The king wishes to see you, ma'am."

Alena rose stiffly from her seat as a maid entered the room, and then followed the girl as she set off down the hallway. She knew the way, of course, but she welcomed the excuse to prolong the time before her inevitable meeting with Reiniel. Slowly, she trailed behind, glancing absently at the portraits that lined the hallways they traversed. Most were ancient and cracking, painted by some long-dead artist of long ago, but the closer to her destination she drew, the more recent they became. Reiniel's late father, King Alexiel, stared accusingly down at her from the far wall as they rounded a corner. Despite herself, she shivered, feeling as though a draft had blown over her. She had never liked the man, and he had not had strong feelings for her in his lifetime either. She had been perversely glad that he had died when he did, despite the people's misery. Despite his acts, he was not as honorable a man as they had thought. Not far away from his portrait hung the likeness of Reiniel's mother, a young, happy-looking woman who greatly resembled him. She couldn't help but wish that the boy had gotten more from his mother than her looks. Perhaps the kingdom would be in a better state of affairs if he took after her in mannerisms rather than his father.

Her gaze locked on two smaller frames as they stopped before the door to Reiniel's quarters. While the maid disappeared inside to announce her presence—as if she were a stranger or someone he regarded with disdain—she slowly reached out a hand to touch the ridged surface of the first. Painted upon the canvas was a young girl, with bright blue eyes and blonde hair that fell in ringlets about her thin shoulders. The face that stared back at her was familiar, too familiar for Alena to bear looking at; quickly, she pulled her fingers back as if she had been burnt, and instead directed her gaze at its partner. This portrait was recognizably Reiniel, created sometime in his younger years. His face was startlingly open and bright; it must have been before Rilliene's death, she decided, especially as his sister's picture beside it looked as if it had been done around the same time. Though he wasn't much older now, perhaps only eight years or so, he looked startlingly childish in the picture, as if he had aged considerably in the short years between then and his ascent to the throne.

The door beside her suddenly flew open, startling her from her reverie; through it, the servant reappeared and bowed slightly in her direction. "You may enter now," she murmured politely before retreating down the hallway. Alena half wished she could do the same, though she knew that before she could do anything, she must face whatever Reiniel was prepared to throw at her. Sighing quietly, she edged open the door and slid inside. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, a sense of wrongness settled on her like a cloud, striking even more hesitation into her heart. The boy sitting at the desk across the room was motionless; he stared wordlessly at the wood grains lining the wood before him, showing no signs of having heard her entrance. The room was quiet except for the ticking of the clock in the corner, which lent an eerie echo to the room.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Alena spoke up. "You asked for me?"

The room echoed her words for a moment, throwing them back and forth repetitiously, deafening her with her own voice. Finally, after what seemed like years, Reiniel lifted his head, an uncharacteristically cheerful smile pasted on his face. The maiden felt a small chill run down her spine as he motioned for her to sit. There was none of the normal blatant disinterest in his expression as he gazed at her. In fact, there was nothing much at all; it was simply…empty. _Something is most definitely not right here…_

"How nice to see you again," the boy began as she hesitantly took a seat in one of the uncomfortable straight-backed chairs before his desk. "I trust your mission was successful?"

"Yes…my liege."

He nodded in satisfaction, though she couldn't miss the look that flickered briefly in his eyes. He leaned back slightly in his chair, as if preparing himself for some long, drawn out story of some kind. "So how did you fare?"

As she began to rattle of the rote statistics of their battles—which she knew he absolutely hated—Alena still couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong in her absence, or maybe as a result of it. Under normal circumstances, Reiniel would be pleased with their victory, of course, but soon would return to chastising the servants and complaining about the awful snacks they had fed him while she was away. She had become accustomed to his mindless banter over the years she had spent with him, but this cold, distantly polite behavior was one that he had never had the occasion to direct at her. Perhaps he had not been satisfied with their victory after all? Perhaps he had found out that Michael had not been reported dead? Or maybe someone had told him that she had helped him escape? The last thought nearly made her freeze midsentence with sudden fear; Reiniel cast her a strange look as she stuttered slightly, but didn't comment on it. Would he truly punish her for helping him escape? Who was even there to see her hide him within the well that night? She certainly hadn't seen anyone besides themselves; the rest of the army had been off lighting Melegone on fire. And if he did know, how could he have found out so quickly if they had only arrived today?

Finally, she finished her report and, ill at ease, waited for his response. The young king looked thoughtful now, and merely turned to look out the window without a word to her. The one thing, she realized in the silence, that had been absent from her report had been the state of the "man of Green." Despite his silence, she knew he had not forgotten it, but the fact that he hadn't responded yet made her think he knew something she didn't. _What about Michael?_ she wanted to scream. _Why haven't you mentioned Michael yet?_

"I once heard a legend," Reiniel finally started, interrupting her from her thoughts, "that, at a certain place, if you place your wish in a bottle and cast it out to sea, it will come true." Alena recognized the tale; she had been the one to tell it to him, many years ago. _But the legend is incomplete_, she added in her thoughts. _For the location of such a miracle has been hidden from human knowledge. Only the spirits know of such a place now_.

From out of his desk, the boy drew a small glass bottle, containing a small, folded piece of parchment. Without sparing her a glance, he set it before her with a hollow thud. "My wish is for you to finish the task I set before you. You are dismissed."

Warily, Alena plucked the bottle from the table, a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. With a shallow curtsy, she exited the room and hurried back to her own quarters, where she quickly locked the door and fell back onto her bed. Her hands shaking, she released the stopper from the bottle's neck and let the paper fall onto the coverlet beside her. Slowly, painstakingly, she smoothed it open to read, though she already knew what it would say. With a shuddering breath, she set it aside and lurched to her feet, quickly preparing to leave and discarding both letter and bottle. Within the hour, she was on her way out of town, racing as fast as her horse could manage.

A servant by the name of Lillianne found the message not long after, half burnt in the grate in Alena's room. Quickly, she rescued it from the fire and smothered the burning fibers with her apron. Curiously, she scanned the short missive before jumping to her feet and running out the door, making sure to tuck the half-burnt parchment securely in her apron pocket as she went. Making sure no one was around to see her, she escaped the palace and quickly made her way to the royal stables.

* * *

_Kill the man of Green. That is all I ever asked of you._

_And make sure you do it right this time._


	9. Chapter 9

She was first seen at the local tavern in Heldemont, dressed in men's clothing. Labeled as nothing more than a Solenian mercenary, she was disregarded and soon forgotten as she made her way in every night to hear the town gossip and have a beer or two. She kept mostly to herself, and so they tolerated her presence, though it was more than unusual, to say the least, for a woman to show up at such a place. But the men were content to label her as a foreigner and leave her well enough alone after seeing the cold glare she shot at the first of them to question her appearance there. After that, most of them learned to keep their distance. The girl was young, no more than sixteen years of age, but she was already more mature than most of the drunkards who frequented the bar. At least she could hold her liquor.

It came as a surprise to all of them when one night, she rose from her seat at the corner table to address the room full of beer-toting males.

_"The time has now come to act, to throw off the shackles that the king has placed on us…"_

At first, no one would listen. Why should they heed the cries of rebellion from a child such as her, and a woman no less? None of them wanted to suffer the penalty that treason of such high order would ensue, so they laughed her off, ignored her, and went back to their conversations and drunkenness. The more she came back to speak, the more she was met with open hostility. After all, she was just a smart-mouthed foreigner. What could she know of their king that they had not already guessed themselves? But she continued to return, night after night, each time speaking more and more openly of a revolt against their tyrannical king, each time more determined to make them all see the light beyond the clouds of tyranny that shrouded their vision. And soon enough, despite their initial opposition, they began to listen.

_"How can any of you tolerate this depravity? Do you not remember the freedoms you held before this evil child came to power? How many of you now struggle to find enough food to feed your families? How many of you have resorted to begging on the streets? And do you honestly think that your need to drink your problems away in this very tavern are not caused by the king who torments you so?"_

She struck at the people's hearts, provoking their pent up anger and uncovering their dormant need for change. The tavern soon grew too crowded at nights for anyone more to cram themselves in to hear her, so they moved to a public stage in the center of town, drawing not only townsfolk but soldiers as well. Those loyal to the king often tried to disrupt them, but the people fought back, finding their enemy within their own town; often, the riots and outbreaks of violence caused numerous fatalities on both sides. Eventually, struck by the truth of the girl's words, some soldiers defected to the side of the newly formed group of rebels, hoping to assist in their attempt to overthrown the throne to gain a better life.

The group named themselves the _Libertores_, the Freedom Fighters, formed in order to bring the Rose, in all his deadly glory, down for good. Soon, the girl had appointed generals to command her gradually growing army of peasants and deserters, and soon began to map out their plan of attack. They would launch their first strike on the small village of San Hazk, a garrison nearly three hundred miles from the capital city, Anselle. They would gain all the support, weapon and supplies they would need there, they decided, and would crush anyone who opposed them. If that succeeded, they would continue straight for the capital itself. For days, they argued over when they would begin—of course, the popular decision was immediately. Now was the time to strike, they agreed, when no one would expect them; the Royal Guard was worn down from the Green War they had just fought in the north, and surely wouldn't expect another attack so soon, especially not from within their own walls. They all agreed on that point, and as soon as their makeshift army was fully equipped and as prepared as they could manage, they set out for San Hazk, only a week after the Green War had ended.

_"Come with me, and we will strike down that son of evil for good!"_

As for the little lady mercenary, she had only one motive in the entire endeavor. Looking away from the crowds cheering her and her army forward as they departed that day, she smiled humorlessly at the glittering ring she still wore on her hand, an ever-present reminder of that cruel day that had changed her heart. The bright, blood-red ruby shone in the sunlight that beat down on their backs as they marched out of the gate. "I'm following your wishes," she whispered to the stone. "I've accomplished everything that you could only dream of, just as you would have wanted me to. Have I made you proud of me yet, Father?"

* * *

Horse hooves pounded through the night as a small, blond-haired figure rode frantically into the forest. The moon glared down at her as her hair whipped behind her, beaten into knots by the wind that blew violently against her. Heedlessly, she hurried on, unaware of anything but the pounding of her heart in her ears and the warm flesh of the horse beneath her. Unknown to her, robins flitted after her as she wove through the trees, and chipmunks jumped from branch to darkened branch behind her, all peering curiously down at the stranger as she passed. _What is she doing here?_ they asked in their quiet voices. _Is she here to take our brother from us?_ The knowledge that she could not only served to amuse them, and the bird's tiny mouth's opened in song as they flew along behind her retreating form. _We know something you do not, little warrior. But you will find it out soon enough._

Oblivious to their words, the girl atop the panting horse merely doubled her speed as the trees cleared around her; the cottage where she had left her friend was now in sight. Before long, she had dismounted and tied her horse's lines to a nearby tree branch to await her return. "I'll be back in just a moment, Joseph," she told the exhausted horse. "Get some rest." She briefly stroked the animal's nose before turning towards the well on the far side of the clearing, her heart pounding so loud that it must have been audible for miles. Her breath hitching hopefully in her chest, she ran to its edge, leaned out over empty space and saw—

Nothing. Only empty air greeted her eyes as she frowned into the well's depths. There was nothing at all, strangely enough, not even the rope that Michael had used to climb down. And, worst of all, Michael himself was missing. A sudden fear enveloped her heart—what if her had been captured after all, and executed without her knowledge? It was certainly something Reiniel could have arranged, but it wasn't very likely that he would have had him killed without alerting her first. Besides, he would not have sent her out to kill him if he were already dead. The more obvious option was that the green-haired boy had left for a safer refuge, as he had told her he would. It had already been three days, nearly four—it wasn't at all unlikely.

Her head spinning, Alena began to move back from the well to search for signs of his departure. She was a decent tracker, in her opinion, and human tracks were always the easiest to identify. She would catch up with him, wherever he had gone, and ensure his safe escape before returning home to report his supposed death to Reiniel. But suddenly, something within the darkness below her caught her eye: something that gleamed in the moonlight, like one of the stars itself. Squinting carefully, she strained to see past the black shadows that clouded her vision. Suddenly, the moon moved directly overhead, its bright light illuminating what she had not seen before.

A figure lay at the very bottom of the well, surrounded by a murky pool of mixed blood and water. A red stain blossomed from a wound in his chest where a knife had been buried, coloring the edges of his shirtfront a deep scarlet. Despite the obvious violence of the committed act, a faint smile still lingered on his pallid features, even in death. With a cry of alarm, Alena jumped back, nearly toppling in with him as she lost her balance; then, slowly, she peered in once again, as if the scene might have changed in the few seconds that she wasn't looking. Unfortunately, it had not. A loud sob rose in her throat, followed by another and another. Before long, she was weeping in the dirt beside what had now become the boy's grave as rain began to fall against her prone form. Her cried echoed in the thunder that rang out across the valley, and the infrequent flashes of lightning illuminated her pouring tears until they shone like precious jewels.

Eventually, she left, as everyone must, murmuring her last farewells to the boy she loved as raindrops mingled with the tears that streaked her cheeks. Thoroughly soaked, she mounted her sodden horse and fled the place, her heart echoing once again in her ears, blandly pounding the cold, hard truth into her consciousness. Far behind her, the robins and chipmunks surrounded the opening in the ground and silently watched as water slipped over the body hidden within, burying it in its muddy depths, never to be seen by mortal eyes again.

_We warned you, brother. We warned you that you could not return. Now you see the weakness of these strange creatures called 'humans'…_


	10. Chapter 10

Early morning sunlight filtered through the glass window panes within the dimmed room, casting bright yellow squares against the stone slabs of the floor. The hot summer sun quickly rose in the sky beyond, spreading light and warmth to the far reaches of the land. Even so, there was one place that it still could not shine on; it was manifested in the young boy who stood beside the window, staring blankly at the horizon.

Curiously, a small grimace twisted his lips, though by his standards, he should have been happy. After all, he had just successfully won a war against a nearly defenseless people, and had eliminated the one so-called political enemy he had encountered in his short lifetime. He had every reason to be joyful, and yet, an unbearable weight still wrapped his heart.

The one chance of redemption he had found had vanished, cruelly taken from him by the one whom he had hoped to share it with in an astonishing turn of events. How could he have known she would turn him down? It was Kaitlyn, after all. They had known each other since they had been children, and had been friends all that time. How was he to know that she had already fallen in love with another man? He supposed it was only right, after all, that she had rejected his proposal, for that reason; she loved another man who was not himself, and she should have been happy with him. After all, he did not actually love her as he had claimed. However, he loved his sister dearly, and if marrying Kaitlyn was what it took to atone for her premature death, he would gladly accept it. But Kaitlyn, in all her ignorance to his inner turmoil, had stolen that hope from him, and in his anger, he had ordered both her lover and his kinsman to be murdered. If Kaitlyn had shut the door on his hopes for recompense, he had only sealed them away for good.

And then, to top it all off, Alena had only just returned from her mission a few days prior, and since then, she had refused to speak to him in any capacity. Instead, she had locked herself in her room as soon as she had stepped foot in the palace. The evident betrayal hurt worse than he had expected; he was accustomed to her constant presence, the sole figure in his life who he knew, without a doubt, he could wholeheartedly rely on. He was used to her absences when he gave her orders and sent her away for days at a time, such as he had done during the Green War, but to have her this close, yet still not have her nearby quickly took its toll on him. He felt lonely in a way that he hadn't felt in years, since Rilliene's death; it was if Alena, too, had abandoned him for the cold finality of death. Of course, he knew it wasn't so, but it tortured him nonetheless. It was strange, he thought, how profound of an effect both of them had on him. He had come to depend on both of them in turn, and as a result, they became a part of him: Rilliene as his twin, and Alena as his partner. Because of this, they were closer to him than any other human being alive. How, then, could such people become not only his salvation but his undoing?

Moodily, he shrugged a robe on and stalked to his desk, where stacks of reports from the recent Green War awaited him judgment. It was cruel and unusual punishment, he decided as he shuffled through the first of them, for his definitively evil choice. It was nothing more than a menial chore for him; originally, it must have been meant to keep past rulers busy while their officers gave out treasonous orders behind their backs and inadvertently ruined the kingdom, all while the king was busy with paperwork in the castle. It must be done, of course, as much as he hated it, but how useful could it really be if it reaped no obvious benefits? Let them file them all away in the records for all they wanted. He certainly didn't care.

A hurried knock brought a welcome respite from his task some time later; entering seconds later was a tall soldier in light armor. Reiniel was half disappointed to see that it wasn't Alena. He had hoped that today would be the day that she would emerge from her solitude. Before he could dwell on such thoughts any longer, the man knelt before him in the manner of knights of the Guard and began to speak. "My king," he started, haste quickening his words. "The council requests as audience with you at once. It is of the utmost importance. They wish for your presence at this very moment, and would have me inform you that it is a matter of national emergency, and will not await your leisure."

The man certainly had some nerve to speak in such a way to his king. Reiniel made a mental note to have Alena find out his name later and have him promptly executed for his impudence. Slowly, he rose from his seat to glare down at the soldier. "And what is so important that you must interrupt my paperwork?"

If he had been trying for humor with that statement, it was lost on the man as he too rose, casting a cursory down at the boy. "It is not for me to say at this time, sire," he said in a low tone. "But from what I hear, there are rumors of a…a rebellion of sorts in one of the villages."

The room was silent for a moment, but soon, it echoed with the young king's hysterical laughter. "A revolt? Is that all this 'important' rubbish is about? Go tell those dithering old fools that such a thing is no trouble at all. They will be able to crush it just as easy as they have crushed every so-called rebellion in the past."

"But sir," the man ground out. "Regardless of your opinions on the matter, they wish for you to meet with them _immediately_."

Something about the man's tone froze Reiniel's counter argument; he thought for a moment, and then finally waved the soldier away. "Alright, I suppose I will come," he sighed, "if those bastards truly insist… They will soon find it is a waste of everyone's time to worry about such a trivial matter, though. I am sure of it." Without another word, the soldier left, leaving Reiniel alone to puzzle through his thoughts as he prepared to leave.

Fifteen minutes later, he was seated in the council room, surrounded just as he had been a few weeks before by varying ranks of officers of the Royal Guard. To his right sat Alena, much to his delight, though she looked decidedly more worn than he remembered, and her eyes were red, as if she had recently been crying. Her face remained neutral, betraying none of the emotions that should have been played out on her features. He only briefly wondered on his observation before one of the serious-faced men took his place at the end of the table, slowly turning his head to stare at them all in turn. "The matter we are here to discuss today," he intoned in a surprisingly squeaky voice, "is a very dire one indeed. Reports from my men in the town of Barcelena have informed me that a large group of armed rebels is cleaving a path through the country, gathering more support and followers as they come. They have already conquered our garrison at San Hazk, providing them with more weapons than any other revolt in our history, not to mention—"

"We are prepared to stop them, correct?" The king only looked bored, despite the surprising news. "How much trouble can it possibly be to stop a pathetic little group of peasants who happen o have gotten hold of a few sticks and pitchforks? You have already sent your men to deal with them, haven't you, York?"

The man who had been speaking earlier—who went by the name of Alan York—looked sheepish. "Of course I have, your highness. I have done everything I possibly can. But you see…" He paused for a moment, struggling to mount the courage to continue, and then finally blurted out: "It has not been successful… I have lost all contact with the majority of my soldiers, and from what I hear, they have all either been killed or have joined the side of the rebels—"

"Preposterous!" the boy cried. "They are members of the Royal Guard! They would not defect to the side of such vile, dishonorable vermin such as these _rebels_. Order them to attack immediately!"

The general looked pained as he replied. "I have already informed you, sire, of my inability to recover any form of contact with them, not to mention the fact that they just won't listen. There is nothing more I can do—"

He was cut off as the room erupted into argument. Officers jumped from their seats to yell at each other as Reiniel shouted above the noise to be heard. "There _has _to be something you can do!" he yelled frantically. "Send more men, arrest them all, execute the lot of them for treason and—"

"Reiniel." A soft voice cut through the noise of the room, causing everyone to stop midsentence to listen. It was a voice the boy had not heard for many days, one as familiar to him as his own. Slowly, he turned to look at the girl at his side, whose blue eyes flashed with a deep, impenetrable sadness. Reflected within them, he could see his own pale, terrified face; even as he recognized it, he began to feel the beginnings of the inevitable fear creeping into his heart where he had so desperately tried to keep it out before._ How can my closest confidant so quickly become my undoing?_

"Reiniel," she repeated, her voice gradually becoming stronger. "Listen to me, please. There is nothing we can do. Do you hear me? They are coming for us, for _you_ and there is _nothing_ we can do."

It occurred to him, half a second too late, the she must inevitably feel the same paralyzing terror that he himself was experiencing; even so, it was already too late. Of its own volition, his hand raised itself to eye level and streaked across her face, leaving and angry red blotch on the maiden's cheek. Yet she did not flinch, did not cry out and question his motives; instead, she merely gave him the same blank look she always wore when she struggled to contain her emotions, to lock them away somewhere where they would not interfere. That in of itself added to the immediate guilt Reiniel felt, doubled the pain of regret that bit into his chest. He knew he should apologize, but he somehow couldn't bring himself to; instead he turned away from the accusing look in her eyes and motioned for the shell-shocked men around him to continue. After a moment or two of bewildered silence, they began their argument again, with Reiniel sitting in his corner listening more or less absently as they discussed the fate of both themselves and their silent leader.

Finally, it became too much for him, and he quickly excused himself from the room, nearly running back to his quarters in his haste to get away from the horrible truth that loomed over him. Footsteps in the hallway behind him told him that Alena had followed him, but he could not be bothered to stop for her at the moment. It was her job, of course, to protect him, and so she would act on her responsibilities even at this early stage, but he could not bear the thought of facing her any more than he could bear any thoughts of what lay in store for him in the future. So he locked the door to his bedroom firmly behind him, pocketed the key, and sat down upon the window seat, staring once again at the steady light of the sun, and willing the tears not to fall.

_What is happening, Mother? What do I do, Father? Rilliene, Kaitlyn, Alena, anyone, please… What will become of me..?_

* * *

Slowly but surely, the armed group of common folk were making their way across the country, led by their insatiable hunger for freedom. The success they had garnered at San Hazk had only served to fortify the fire that the Red mercenary had first ignited in Heldemont. About half of the soldiers stationed there had joined their movement, and the rest had been slaughtered and driven out of town in the battle that ensued. Afterwards, they had moved on to towns such as Barcelena, among many others they lay in their path, where they attempted to persuade the people to join in their fight. In some, where news of the revolutionary force had already reached, they were welcomed with open arms and acquiescence; in others, they were met with violence and blatant opposition. But they still forged on, forging a path down the center of Lucifenia, heading straight for the capital and the palace of the tyrant, King Reiniel.

The mercenary had estimated not long ago that her ragtag army was now about 5,000 strong; she was confident that with the current losses to the Royal Guard's number, from both the Green War and the high number of defects, they would surely be able to take the capital with little or no difficulty. But even so, the girl still had some tricks up her sleeve to ensure their victory. Within days of reaching Holdsmuth, a small town about one hundred miles from Anselle, a messenger arrived breathlessly to report to her.

"Sir, a large group of people have just arrived, and they wish to speak with you at once..!"

At long last, her father's followers, whom she had contacted several days before she made her first appearance in Heldemont, had arrived. They were an assorted group of Solenians, ranging from mercenaries, such as herself, to soldiers of the Solenian Army of the Sun, and all wished to help free Lucifenia from its unjust ruler—and, as a result, free themselves from his dominion. Most were, thankfully, already armed, and many were seasoned warriors, some even claiming to be descended from well-known heroes such as Alandrof the Strong and Villethor of Waylands—though no one actually believed them, of course. But all chafed under the iron fist of the child king, and all thirsted both for his blood and for their own freedom.

Not long after, another ally arrived; this one, though, was entirely unexpected. A young girl, about her own age, arrived at their camp one day, just outside of Stalmak. Her long blue hair was bound stiffly behind her head, and she wore a light suit of chainmail over a mid length skirt. Stranger than anything else, she wore a light blue mask over her face, which completely hid her features from view. She was a representative from the army of the kingdom of Blue, she claimed, who had been sent at the princess' request to assist the rebels in dethroning their country's monarch. Her only requirement for her service was that she retained control over her own soldiers, and that neither she nor her army would be subject to anyone in the rebel army. Her terms were readily met and with much approval.

"My name is Meilee Knox," said the mercenary girl at their first meeting, "commander of the Libertores. What shall I call you?"

The blue-haired general thought for a moment before extending a gloved hand for Meilee to shake. "Kaitlyn," was her reply. "Kaitlyn…Marlon. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."


	11. Chapter 11

"Checkmate," Alena announced as she knocked over Reiniel's king. "I win again."

It was another bright, sunny day, and spots of light scattered over the two youths as they faced each other at a table beside the open window. A chessboard was spread between them, bearing significantly more white pieces than black. Though it was a beautiful day outside, Reiniel had insisted upon staying indoors, claiming that he was feeling a bit under the weather. Though she had guessed that that wasn't the reason for his reclusiveness that day, Alena hadn't pressed him any further. Truth be told, she was somewhat worried about him; ever since he had heard the news of the approaching rebel army, he had started acting stranger than ever, and soon refused to leave his room or see anyone besides Alena herself. No, more than strange—he seemed almost afraid, something she had never seen in him before. It wasn't that he was unnaturally brave, of course; rather, he always hid his feelings behind an arrogant façade, never allowing anyone to see himself for who he really was. But now, that wall was gone, and through it she could see the weak, scared boy who had been there all along. She certainly didn't blame him for it, though; she felt more than a little fear herself, and she was sure that she would act similarly if she were in his position.

Across from her, Reiniel groaned and sat back, a mere vestige of his former behavior. "This is the fifth time this morning… Have you no mercy?"

"Of course not. I only plan to defeat you another five times before I am through." Her humor was lost on him, though, as he silently turned to stare out the window at the garden below. _I'm losing him_, she thought sadly as she gazed at the painful expression he wore. _No matter what I do, it is not enough, and slowly, he continues to lose touch with reality, consumed by his own fear. I can do nothing to help him…_ "Is something the matter?" she asked instead as she swiftly reset the game pieces on the board. "Would you rather I let you win?"

"I am perfectly fine," the boy replied, answering neither of her two questions as he faced her once again, his face as composed as he could possibly manage. Only the slightest tremble of his hands betrayed his agitation. "It is nothing… Absolutely nothing…" Absently, he moved his pawn to begin the game, and then grimaced as Alena captured it with a quick flick of her wrist.

"So you say," she countered as he skidded another playing piece across the checkered tiles. "It is fairly obvious to me that something is amiss, though." Her gaze softened at the look of alarm that flew across this face. "Is it anything you wish to discuss—"

"No. Of course not. Your move." His expression had hardened again, a familiar look that told her that he was hiding something after all.

"Reiniel…" But he would not respond, not even as the blonde took his queen and put his king into check. Only as the game came to a close did he deign to speak again.

"How soon will they arrive?" he asked distractedly as he removed his king from the board. His voice was so quiet that Alena almost didn't hear him.

"How soon will who arrive?"

"The rebels, of course." Reiniel looked mildly annoyed, but it lasted only a second. "They will be here soon, and when they arrive, I will be killed."

Startled by the bluntness of his statement, the maiden hurried to reassure him. "You don't know that—"

"But what else would they do with me, if not kill me?" He was on his feet now, pacing across the floor, the king game piece still gripped in his long fingers. "I have done too much to make them hate me for them to show me mercy and allow me to live. Even I can see that. So why should I expect any different?"

Alarmed, Alena too rose to her feet and hurried to his side. "Perhaps there is still hope that you might live. Perhaps they can be reasoned with—"

"Do not attempt to console me, Alena!" he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "Don't attempt to give me hope where there is none. You yourself told me that there is nothing we can do. There is nothing, and so I will become nothing, just as I began. This—all I have done, all I have worked for—is nothing, just the ill-spoken treachery of a soon to be dead king." With that, he threw the king in his hand to the floor, where it bounced and slowly rolled under the table. "This is the end for me, Alena. This is the _end_."

He was weeping now, whether he realized it or not, great fat tears streaking down his cheeks. Suddenly, his arms were around the startled girl, and he was crying into her shoulder—Reiniel, the boy who never showed his emotions, who never needed anything from anyone, least of all comfort of this nature. Slowly, she returned the embrace, her arms wrapping awkwardly around his shuddering back. It occurred to her that it had always been him who had comforted her when she cried like this, holding her in his arms even when they were young and whispering reassuring words into her hair. And now it was her turn to hold him as he cried, to let him cling to her as he was and whisper the same meaningless niceties that he once comforted her with. "It's all right… Shh, it's okay…" The words weren't true, of course, but what else could she tell him? If the truth was too painful, what else could she give him but lies?

Finally, at long last, his sobs quieted, leaving him trembling within the circle of her arms like a tree in a violent storm. Slowly releasing him, she sat him down in his chair, where he stared down at his hands listlessly, making no move to wipe the moisture from his eyes. Alena poured a cup of tea for him from the tray nearby before pulling up a chair to sit beside him. There they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and Reiniel sipping his lukewarm tea. Soon, he spoke again, his voice little more than a whisper. "There must be something we can try," he murmured weakly. "There has to be…right?" He glanced pleadingly up at his servant, his face the very picture of misery. How could she sit there and refuse to help him, the boy who depended on her for everything, who confided in her even the most minor details, who had let down the walls that surrounded him to plead for her help? There had to be something she could do, anything that would allow him to live past this horrible coup. This boy, whom she had loved for all fifteen years of her life, who she would do almost anything for, anything at all that he commanded her to do.

"Promise me one thing," he started again, determination briefly strengthening his voice. "Just one thing. Get out of here alive. Do not let them capture you as well, whatever you do. Please promise me this?" His gaze locked with hers in that second, and in his eyes, she saw all that he had never been able to say, all that he couldn't express before. His fear; his determination to live, despite the odds stacked against him; and, past it all, in the very depths of his blue orbs, what pained her the most: the admiration and love he felt for her, kept at bay all these years by lies and inner inhibitions. But were these not the same feelings she felt for him as well? Her willingness to do anything for him, to run to the ends of the earth for him if he asked, all were due to these twin emotions that ran through them both. How could she not assure him that yes, she would find a way to save him, that she would sacrifice herself if only to ensure his survival for one more day, even if it meant her own demise? Had it only been a few months ago that she had tried to convince herself that she was nothing like the cold-hearted tyrant she served that the people so feared? And yet, in carrying out his inhumane wishes with her own hands, she was no better than him after all—possibly even worse. If he was evil, as everyone claimed, then she must be too. And yet, even now, she could see no trace of the cruelty the people claimed to see in this frightened boy—all she saw in that open expression of his was the innocence and kindness of his childhood.

With that thought, an idea finally installed itself in her mind, one that was so life-changing that she knew Reiniel would never in a thousand years agree to it. But she knew that she must do it, if not for his sake, then for her own, as selfish as it seemed. So she looked up at him, into the icy blue orbs that she had familiarized herself with in all the time she had known, and slid off her chair to kneel in front of him. "I will do no such thing," she whispered. "But I have a plan. In order for it to succeed, however, I require your full cooperation. Do you agree?"

* * *

Day by day, the army of revolutionaries drew closer, gathering support wherever they went. The Red mercenaries forces had grown to be much larger than anyone had expected, and reports soon reached the palace of another army that had joined their ranks, led by a masked Blue woman from Algeria. Weakened from the Green War, the diminished Royal Guard dropped like flies before them, allowing them entry deeper in to the country. They had made it within twenty miles of the kingdom by the first day of autumn, and the dying leaves that blew past began to take on an ominous air, foreshadowing the upcoming destruction of the king's regime.

Reiniel still refused to leave his quarters, taking all his meals there in the company of only his thoughts and his servant. The maiden had not fully revealed her plan as of yet, which only served to add to his fear. Did she truly have one, or was she only fibbing to make him feel more secure? Whatever her motives, the weight of the rapidly approaching peasant army sank him deeper and deeper into despair, so far down that he feared he may never escape in time. He lived out his days in near solitude this way, conversing occasionally with Alena and brooding over his nearing death. And  
then, at long last, the much anticipated day arrived.

Barren trees bore the news of the final siege, revealing their presence as they marched towards the city gates. By this time, the servants had all fled—save for Alena, who remained faithfully by his side. The boy sat staring out the window as fire arose from the first houses, sending ashy smoke billowing up into the darkening sky. _Perhaps this was how Melegone looked as my soldiers burnt it to the ground,_ he wondered as tiny townsfolk threw themselves at the soldiers lining the distant streets below. _Perhaps this is my punishment: watching my city burn around me, and started by my own subjects, no less._ As frightened as he was, with his executors now in sight, he still would not run; he had told himself, and Alena, several times in the past few days that he would not abandon his position, even if it meant his life.

_"Why won't you run? You could save yourself if you were to escape now."_

_"I will not leave. This is my country, and I am their king, whether they like it or not. I will not give in to their pathetic rebellion by surrendering my throne so easily to them."_

_"Even if you could escape with your life?"_

_"If that was a possibility now, I still would not give in. But seeing as it is not, it seems as though I have no choice in the matter anyway."_

Reiniel was startled from his thoughts as the door to his quarters swung open, revealing a blonde boy dressed in the clothes of a servant. No, it wasn't a boy—it was Alena, her hair chopped off at the shoulder in a boyish style. In her arms she held a bundle of clothing, which she quickly set aside as she strode over to him. The shock on his face must have shown, for she cast him a rueful half-smile. "I had to cut my hair," she explained with a shrug, "in order for the plan to work. Does it look alright?"

"You look like a _boy_," he exclaimed in dumfounded horror. "What on earth has gotten into you—"

"As I just told you, it is part of the plan," she huffed. "And you told me that you would comply without question. I do not see anything of the sort at the moment."

The boy quieted then, but not before casting a curious glance at the nearby pile of clothing. "What are those for?"

Alena looked hesitant, but slowly replied. "They are for you. You must get away, quickly, before they find you. I already have Joseph saddled and waiting in the courtyard, all ready for you to—"

"For me to what? Escape?" Reiniel asked frantically as the implication of her plan dawned on him. "Do you intend to come after me, or will you stay here for the rebels to fetch you?"

Alena flinched slightly at his harsh tone. "That was the plan, yes, in a way," she muttered. "We must switch clothes, so that you look like a servant, and I like your highness. You can then escape undetected, and the townsfolk will have their king to do with as they see fit. But do not worry," she said hurriedly as alarm sprang to his face. "I will be alright, I promise. You must trust me."

"I will not leave you behind!" the boy cried. "I will not allow those…those _savages _to lay a hand on you—"

"Reiniel." Her voice was soft as she took his hand lightly in her own. "My only concern is for your well-being, so please, with all due haste, put on my clothes and be on your way. We do not have much time."

Grief-stricken, Reiniel stared at her for a moment before mutely nodding. "Promise me that you will be all right…" he murmured, his voice cracking as she threw her arms around his slim frame.

"I cannot promise such a thing," she whispered, her voice muffled against the material of his shirt. "But I will try my hardest to return to you. That I do promise." Holding him at arms length, she looked him in the eye for a moment before nodding; she turned then to retrieve the bundle of clothes from the nearby table and put it in his arms. "We are about the same size," she said. "These should fit nicely. Find me some of your clothing to wear, and then we will be ready."

Five minutes later, they emerged into the main room again, each wearing the unfamiliar clothes of the other. Reiniel, dressed as a common servant, looked no more royal than one of the palace stablehands. Alena, on the other hand, looked every bit the part in her finery. Even the slim silver circlet that rested against her temple looked as if it had been made just for her, as if she really had been royalty all along, instead of Reiniel. With her cropped hair and wearing Reiniel's clothing, the boy could almost believe that he was looking as a copy of himself. Only the slight femininity of her features betrayed her gender, but it wasn't enough for anyone one but himself to notice. Together with the alarming fact that that she was unarmed, she exceedingly passed in her attempt to masquerade as the young king.

As if just remembering something, Alena hurried to the table once again to retrieve yet another bundle, one that he hadn't noticed before. This one, unlike that containing the clothing, was long and narrow, wrapped in a thin leather cloth and tied together with twine. She silently motioned for him to open it; hesitantly, he did so, and with shaking hands revealed the hilt of her sword, the black molded rose glittering darkly in the faint evening light. Speechless, he could only look at her, and she offered only a small, sad smile. "It is for you," she murmured softly. "I obviously cannot keep it—everyone in the kingdom knows of your lack of skill with a sword. Nonetheless, it will serve you well, if you should ever need it. It is the lightest blade I have ever encountered, crafted of the finest steel of the mountains of Skandra. It is named the Maiden of the Rose, and it has served me well, as I hope it shall also serve you." A small smile lit her face as she carefully buckled the scabbard about his waist, and then watched as he slowly slid the blade into the carefully oiled leather. "Be careful when you leave. Find a town many, many miles away, somewhere they will never find you, and make a new life for yourself. I know you will be fine."

Tears spilled down Reiniel's cheeks as he gazed at her for what felt like the last time. "Will I ever see you again?" he whispered sadly.

Alena smiled again, through her own tears that blurred the image of the boy standing before her. "I hope so," she said. "But if not, know that I love you more than anyone else I have ever known. Never forget that, Reiniel…"

Only after he had gone did she dare to complete her unfinished statement, whispered to herself among the silence that surrounded her. "Never forget that I will always love you, my dearest brother…"

Reiniel was riding out of the kingdom not long after, via a route shown to him by an acquaintance of Alena's. He didn't look back, even as the shouts of the rebels from the streets below reached their crescendo, even as the deafening sound of splintering wood signaled that they had broken into the palace: his home, the only one he had ever known. Only after he had reached the edge of the forest beyond the city limits did he dare turn to view the wreckage that lay behind him, the remnants of his once beautiful childhood fallen and dashed to pieces underfoot. But even as the sight met his eyes, only one though came to mind.

_Why did she seem so familiar..?_


	12. Chapter 12

The execution was scheduled for three o'clock the following afternoon, working around the massive cleanup efforts of the shambled city. It would be a welcome reprieved from the abundance of manual labor for all but one.

The accused sat within a lonely jail cell, abandoned by everyone, even the kingdom's own Royal Guard, who now lay dead in their graves. No one knew what the youth was thinking, and no one bothered to guess; all minds were filled with the joyous sight they had witnessed only the night before, as the Red mercenary and the Blue masked general captured their corrupted king.

_"King Reiniel Lucifen d'Autriche, heir to the throne of Lucifenia, you are hereby under arrest for felony and offense to the conglomerate people of the kingdom of Lucifenia"_

_"Get your hands off of me at once, you disrespectful woman!"_

The clock in the center of town soon struck the anticipated time, and a crowd of people anxiously looked on as the punishment began for their former ruler. Head held high, the small figure was marched onto the wooden platform above them. Waiting on the wooden beams was a gleaming blade, wickedly sharp within its wooden casing. The guillotine, in all of its terrible glory—a fit end for their sadistic king who loved it so. An officer read the charges to the assembly, the list extending far past the limits of their patience, and yet they still stood and waited for the event that was soon to come.

Among the silent townspeople stood a lone figure, whose pale hair hid beneath the hood that covered his head. A fugitive of the people, he stood surrounded by his oblivious condemners, the sole vessel containing the truth of the matter. For he alone truly recognized the figure on the platform, not as the tyrannical boy who once ruled this kingdom, but as his kind and loyal servant, who was now giving up her life for this awful charade. He alone was guilty of all she was now being charged of, and yet it was she, the more innocent of them both, who was destined to die here today.

The droning from the platform soon ceased, and all but the executor and the son of evil stepped down to silently watch. The crowd, as one, held their breaths as the blade rose higher and higher in the air over their victim's outstretched neck; then, suddenly, the cruel silence was broken by a young voice, one that they ha not expected to make a sound. Without deigning to look down at the crowd below, the supposed king raised her head and spoke in a loud, clear voice—not to beg for mercy, not to apologize for the real king's heinous crimes, but to utter a familiar phrase, one that she and her brother had coined as children, one that only the two of them knew the true meaning of. To her fugitive, hidden within the throng, to the people gathered to watch her death, she mockingly called out:

_"Ah, it's tea time."_

Fate was cruel to the boy on that day, for while those around him thought they recognized the voice to be that of the infamous Rose, this child alone realized the truth that had so long remained hidden. Finally, in a tragic turn of events, it had been brought to light, carried forward by an old, almost forgotten memory. The voice was no longer of his servant Alena; instead, it belonged to a girl he had said goodbye to many lifetimes ago, whom he had believed to be dead for nine long years. Only, she hadn't been dead after all, but this cruel fate that had been thrust upon the both of them had gifted her with the death that was so long in coming. He could only whisper her name as the blade fell with a sharp clack, ending the life of the bravest girl he had ever known.

He remained there long after everyone else had departed, staring at the blade that had cut the one person he had ever loved off from him. The cruel blade that he had once so enjoyed, now come from whatever hellish nightmare it had first existed in to steal her away from him. Quietly, into the growing darkness, he whispered one phrase, one question, that would haunt him forever.

"Rilliene, was that really you..?"


	13. Epilogue

Off the coast of Elphegort, in the country of Merdona, there lay a tiny chapel dedicated to the god Eldoh. Settled between the forest and the sea, it was a quiet sanctuary, home to many monks and nuns, both young and old. The small building also doubled as the nearby town's orphanage, and it so happened that there a certain boy lived, of only sixteen years, who called himself Rinto.

He was one of the oldest of all the children who lived there, but that was not what set him apart. He kept himself at a distance from the others, and while he had a vague politeness about him, he allowed no one to become close to him. Rumors constantly circulated about him, both among the children and the monks and nuns who populated the chapel. Some speculated that he had come from the country of Lucifenia following the Great Revolution and the overthrow of King Reiniel, the Son of Evil. Others sympathized with him in their belief that he was still mourning some great loss and could not bear the company of others for too long. On both accounts, they were correct, though they were never told as much. In truth, the boy's numerous sins still plagued him, even a year after he had ended it all, and of course, he had only himself to blame. It had cost him everything, and gained him nothing. All he had left to him were his memories, his life, and a single wish, the last remnant of his past self.

One night, after visiting the empty confessions box in the chapel, he slipped away and found himself by the sea, the same sea he had once visited as a child. The pale water glittered in the light of the setting sun, reminding him of a legend he had once been told.

_"Write your wish on a piece of parchment, and place it in a bottle. If you let it float out to sea, then someday, your wish will come true."_

His sister had told it to him long ago—his twin sister, who had been lost to him until the final moments before her death. Sighing as the unforgiving memory surfaced once again in his mind, he drew an object from the pocket of his cloak and held it at eye level. It was a glass bottle, similar to the one from the old legend, and inside it held a folded piece of parchment, the ink marks it held visible, but unintelligible, through the thin material.

Staring at the darkening sky, he felt the familiar prick of tears in his eyes, burning them as they slipped free. His hands tightened on the neck of the bottle as one small drop slid unchecked down his cheek; only one, at first, but soon it was followed by many more. The images flashed before his eyes again: the jeering crowd, the set of her face as she uttered his favorite phrase, the flashing blade as it came plunging down—

With a sob, the boy collapsed to his knees, sobbing in the damp sand, his tears dripping down onto the glass that contained his message. It had been a year, and yet the memory was still as vivid as if it had been only yesterday. The time that had passed hadn't been able to heal the hole she had created when she had gone. "I could have prevented it, Rilli—Alena," he choked out. Even now, he still wasn't able to call his sister by her given name, after he had known her as Alena for so long. "I could have saved you, if only I hadn't been such a fool. If only I could have changed things… If I had only done everything differently, you would still be alive. I…I am truly sorry, Alena. I will never be able to repay you for the kindness and generosity you showed for me, even if I had a whole lifetime to try." His sobs were soon reduced to small hiccups, and finally, he was able to lift his head again to catch a glimpse of the sun disappearing over the horizon. "If I could see you again," he murmured as he carefully set the bottle into the water before him, "if, somehow, we could be reborn into a second life, please let us be twins again. Please be my sister again, so that I can have another chance to make things right."

The small glass bottle slowly drifted away from his outstretched hand, bobbing peacefully in the waves as they pulled back from the coast, drawing it further and further out. Soon, it was no more than a dark spot, and eventually, as Rinto watched, it disappeared altogether past the horizon, taking the sun's last rays along with it. _Maybe someday it will reach her,_ he thought. _Maybe, wherever she is now, she will read it and realize at last how much she means o me, though I could never express it to her while she still lived._ Silently rising from the sandy ground, he took one last look at the place where the bottle had disappeared before turning to slowly make his way home.

* * *

Somewhere in the distance, in the space between worlds, a slim hand dipped into the water to retrieve a small, dripping object. Tears ran down the smooth surface as the hand's owner released the cork and drew the paper out from its hiding spot within. The figure slowly read the short message; then, a smile lit her face as a quiet melody was released, sung by an all too familiar voice.

_Lu li la, lu li la, lu li la li la…_

The chains fell from her wrists and ankles with a hollow clang as she rose, staring at the blank wall before her as light enveloped the previously darkened room, the small piece of parchment still clutched tightly in her fingers. The wall suddenly shimmered, and then changed, revealing the image of four new, but not entirely unfamiliar, people, who all gazed expectantly back at her. A young girl, whose shoulder length hair was a dark blue; a tall, red-clothed brunette; a man whose hair gleamed with the green of the sea; and there, in front of them all, a boy of no more than fourteen years, whose blonde locks shone like polished gold in the bright light. As she watched, he reached for her hand with an enthusiastic smile; unconsciously, she took a step forward to meet him, and passed through the wall before her as if it were not there at all. His hand in hers was warm, the warmest thing she had felt in the entire time she had been imprisoned within the lightless room. Soon, she stepped fully into the room, blinking at the startling brightness as she exited the strange glass chamber she had been locked in. The others gathered around her, all talking and smiling happily; and then, there were more, both familiar and unfamiliar in equal measure, all welcoming her to this new life she had been given in this new world.

The last memory her past self was able to retain as it faded away into the darkness behind her was of the gentle, familiar voice of the boy beside her, her brother, as he whispered softly into her ear.

_"Happy Re-Birthday."_

* * *

**[A/N: Well, that's the end I guess. ;3; If you actually read the whole thing, congratulations! You get a cookie! :D Sorry, it's virtual.**

**Yay, I actually finished a fanfic. I never thought I would... I know I put this up in only a few days, but it took me months before I even joined to write it. I started in...October maybe? I don't remember. Oh well.**

**In case anyone cares, here's a list of all the characters and what their actual (Vocaloid/Utau) names are. C:**

* * *

**Rinto Kagamine: Reiniel Lucifen d'Autriche**

**Lenka Kagamine: Rilliene Lucifen d'Autriche/Alena Avedon**

**Kaiko Shion: Kaitlyn Algere von Hess/Kaitlyn Marlon**

**Mikuo Hatsune: Michael Germain**

**Meiko Sakine: Meilee Knox**

**Leon: Leo Knox**

**Neru Akita: Ney Melgorne**

**Lily: Lillianne Farniche**

**Teto Kasane: Chartette Kasenelle**

**Ted Kasane: Thomas Kasenelle**

**Dell Honne: Derron Hendrick**

**Big Al: Alan York**

**Gakupo Kamui: Gannon Venomia**

* * *

**So yeah. If you haven't read the whole thing, please do, and send me a review! (Oops, didn't mean to rhyme... What.) Also, I'm gonna write a sequel to this eventually (following the series of events in Daughter of Evil and Wooden Girl -Thousand Year Wiegenlied-). So look for that in the future I guess. And also, I'll be writing some oneshots that sort of go along with this fanfic, namely for Twiright Prank and Kept Waiting for a Response, though I'm thinking of one that described the events between Chapter 12 and the epilogue of this story. So yeah, thanks for reading and stuff I guess! C:]**


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